


Steady Rhythm

by ober22



Series: Pulse [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Realization of Feelings, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 02:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1411843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ober22/pseuds/ober22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living in Beacon Hills, Lydia's learned to expect the unexpected. She should have realized that the rain would bring more than just wet clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady Rhythm

It says a lot about their lives these days that a sudden downpour catches them more by surprise than the army of fairies that has apparently taken up residence in a dying tree about a mile away from the ruins of the Hale house. The pack had been standing around trying to figure out their plan of action when the skies opened up, causing them to scatter and run for cover.

Running back to the edge of the preserve, Stiles and Lydia piled into the Jeep. He'd been driving her everywhere for the last few weeks, ever since her car had been totaled by wood nymphs. They'd grown accustomed to spending most of their time together, and Lydia couldn't even remember the last time she minded when Stiles had started rambling about something.

Before Stiles turned the key in the ignition, he looked her way and laughed. Raising an eyebrow, she flipped down the visor mirror and let out a huff, which made him laugh even harder. Turning to face Stiles, she glared at him and smacked at his arm before running her fingers under her eyes, doing her best to wipe the dark makeup that had run down her cheeks.

"Just drive, Stilinski."

Tipping an imaginary hat to her, Stiles put the car in drive and backed out of the space.

Rolling her eyes at him, she went back to work trying to clean her face. They drove slowly down the narrow dirt path until they hit the main road.

"Your place or mine?" Wiggling his eyebrows at her, Stiles winked. She tried her best to repress her smile, biting her lip and shaking her head to disguise her mirth.

"You've got the bestiary on your computer, genius. I don't."

Stiles just laughed, unfazed by her attitude, and continued driving in the direction of his house, as if he'd known the answer to his question before he even answered it.

Over the past few months, the two of them had spent most of their free time together, researching for the pack. For a while they'd done it separately, until they realized it made more sense for them to work together. Stiles had a way of finding information no one else could, and Lydia's vast knowledge of languages helped more than any translation site could.

The police cruiser is absent from the driveway as they pull in, and Lydia assumed that the Sheriff must have picked up another shift, because he's been home when they left for the preserve.

"Give me a few seconds head start to get the door open."

Tenting his plaid shirt over his head, Stiles made a run for the front door, slipping on the wet cement. Covering her mouth, Lydia laughed at his clumsiness. When he finally managed to open the door, he gestured for her to join him. Slipping her shoes off, she bolted to the door, getting soaked in the few seconds it took her.

The two of them stood in the front hallway for a few seconds, dripping onto the welcome mat until Lydia shivered, and her movement seemed to shake Stiles out of whatever trance he'd been in.

"Oh! Come on, let's get you something dry."

Gesturing for her to follow him, he made his way upstairs, stopping at the hall closet to pull out two towels, draping one over Lydia's shoulders.

"Do you want to take a shower? You should probably get dry so you don't get sick. Can you get sick anymore? Can banshees get sick? I don't have any of your clothes here, but-"

Lydia covered his mouth with her hand, smiling up at him. No matter how close they'd gotten over the years, sometimes Stiles would slip back into his nervous talking. Instead of being annoyed by it like she used to be, Lydia finds herself incredibly amused by it these days, and almost fond of it.

"Maybe just some dry clothes?"

Stiles nods, and she can feel his mouth slide into a smile beneath her palm. His hand comes up to cover hers, and he pulls it away from his face.

"Your hand is freezing, Lyd." Nodding towards his room, he starts up the stairs, her hand still in his.

His room is in it's usual state of disaster, piles of paper everywhere, and he walks toward his dresser.

"Pants? Shorts?"

"What about those Spiderman boxers I got you for Christmas?"

Stiles starts digging around, waving an arm at his closet.

"All the shirts are in there, pick whatever you want."

Lydia makes her way to the closet, towel wrapped tightly around her, and stares at the mass of plaid and hoodies in front of her.

"How is it possible that you there are that many different plaids in the world? How is it possible that you own so many of them?"

"Don't disrespect the plaid." Stiles voice is closer than she expected, and she jumps a little, turning to smack at Stiles' chest.

Stiles laughs and hands her the previously mentioned boxers and walking back to his dresser, assumedly to find his own dry clothing.

Flipping through his shirts, she stops at the maroon lacrosse sweatshirt wedged in between two flannels. She's not sure she's ever seen Stiles wear it, and figures it's okay to take.

Leaving Stiles in his room, she heads for the bathroom.

Peeling off the wet clothes is a pain, and wrangling her hair into a bun on the top of her head takes longer than she would have liked, and she curses Mother Nature for making things difficult. The boxers were a good idea, smaller and tighter than anything else she could have worn, and she only has to roll the waistband once for them to fit. The real issue comes when she slips the hoodie over her head, and she's left staring at herself in the mirror.

It's obvious that Stiles is much taller than her, but the sweatshirt is not only far too long, but baggy in the shoulders. She'd never thought of Stiles as bulky or overly muscled, but there's got to be something she's been missing. Leaving her wet clothes hanging from the hook on the back of the door, she makes her way back down the hallway towards his room. 

Stiles is slipping into a white t-shirt as she reaches the doorway, and she stops dead in her tracks, because she never imagined that he looked like that under all his layers. 

Because he's Stiles, he gets stuck in the t-shirt, and she's given a good look at a smooth stomach dotted with moles like the rest of them, and a trail of dark hair leading into the waistband of his track pants.

Lydia's eyes widen against her will, and she's left gaping at the boy she's been seriously mistaken about. Luckily he hasn't noticed her yet, throwing a fist in the air in victory when he finally gets the shirt pulled down. Settling on his bed, he runs a hand through his hair.

She can't keep in the laugh when she sees the hair standing straight up, and he looks up, joining in her laughter at the sight of the large hoodie on her small frame.

There's a pout on her face when he stops laughing enough to open his eyes, he's reminded for a second of the moment she stood next to him, draped in his father's jacket after her two day trek through the woods.

When she attempts to give him the finger, she finds her movement hindered by the sleeves that hang past her hands, and he beckons her over.

"Come here Lyds, I'll help you."

When she's close enough, Stiles grabs the sleeve and pulls her the rest of the way to him, folding the soft fabric over itself and wiggling her fingers when they appear. Lydia rolls her eyes at him, but smiles, using her newly found hand to smooth the mess he made of his hair. Pausing his work on her other sleeve, he looks up at her and smiles softly, before going back to his job.

When he finishes the second sleeve, he pulls her down to the bed with him, his laptop between them as they read up on everything they've got on fairies. 

\-----

Lydia's not sure how much time they spent scrolling through the bestiary and various online forums before they gave up for the night, but suddenly she's blinking awake, hyperaware of the arm around her, the soft fabric beneath her cheek.

At some point, Stiles must have turned his lamp off and moved his laptop, because the only light in the room is that from the moon, bright and almost full, shining through the window. She picks her head up slightly, resting her chin on Stiles' chest and staring up at him. 

He looks different in the low light, shadows underneath his eyes and along his jaw, and she tries her best not to think back to those terrible days when he wasn't Stiles, but something much worse. 

She's about to close her eyes and go back to sleep when she feels it, the gentle beating of his heart beneath her hand.

They've been though more in their young lives than they should have gone through in a lifetime, and the threat of losing him or any of her friends had been constantly present for the last few years, but she tries not to think about it too much. His heartbeat is soothing in a way that not much else is, and before she can second guess herself, she turns her head and presses a kiss to his cheek, and then to his chest, directly over where his heart is beating strong. 

"Hmm, Lyd..."

Stiles' arms tighten around her, and for a second she's scared that he's awake, but then he turns over on his side and she's met with closed eyes framed with long, dark lashes, and an open mouth. Leaning her head against his chest, she takes a moment to thank whoever's looking out for them for bringing her this boy who was forced to become a man too soon, and everything he's done for her.

Stiles' t-shirt has been rucked up by his movement, a strip of skin and the swell of his hipbone in plain view, and Lydia is unable to resist laying her hand there, thumb pressed into the indent. Closing her eyes, she drifts back to sleep to the steady thrum of his heart.

\-----

Stiles is the first to wake in the morning, and only does so because of the heavy weight on his chest. Blinking slowly, he finds his arms full of Lydia, vision obscured by her long hair. He tries not to tense too much, sliding himself backwards and away from her.

Suddenly, her hand tightens in his t-shirt and she cracks one eye.

"Stop freaking out, Stiles. I'm not going to bite."

Stiles smirks, sliding back across the bed toward her. He's not sure what makes him do it, but as a small smile spreads across her face, he leans in and kisses her forehead, soft and fast, and then rests his forehead against hers.

Pulling back to look down at her, he's surprised to see color across the bridge of her nose, spreading along her cheeks, and wonders if he missed something. 

"Give me a few more minutes and I'll make you French Toast."

He sees her smile, and she closes her eyes. He thought he needed a few more minutes of rest, but he knows he might not get this chance again, and he's going to take what he can get.

Once her breath slows, and he knows she's fallen asleep again, he pulls away and heads for the kitchen, busying himself with the coffee machine and everything he needs to make breakfast.

\-----

When Lydia wakes up, she's alone, and the smell of coffee and cinnamon is heavy in the air. 

Climbing out of bed, she makes her way downstairs to find Stiles standing at the stove, dancing along to an old Britney Spears song playing on his phone. 

Knowing he won't hear her, she walks up behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face into the soft fabric of his t-shirt. 

He flails a little, as she expected he would, and then laughs, turning in her arms. She's reminded again just how much bigger than her Stiles is, especially when she has to lean back a little to see his face. 

"Hey."

Stiles' voice shakes a little, and Lydia doesn't know when she started finding that endearing, but it's suddenly adorable, and she beams at him. 

"Hi."

Before she can second guess herself, she's pushing up on her tiptoes and her lips are on his. She can feel him tense up, and wants to kick herself, until his hands settle on the small of her back, heavy and warm even through the thick sweatshirt. 

Pulling back, she bites her lip and looks up at him, laughing at the color blooming up his neck and across his face. Bringing a hand up to his cheek, she runs a finger down his jaw, the skin hot and a bit rough from the day old stubble.

When almost a minute passes, and he still hasn't said anything, she worries that she's made a mistake, and drops her hand, starting to pull away.

Lydia's movement is all Stiles needs to come back to himself, and he tightens his grip on her, a smirk spreading across his face. 

"You kissed me." His voice is light and singsongy, and it's her turn to blush, burying her head against his chest.

"You liiiiiike me."

Lydia sighs, knowing she just opened herself up for a lifetime of his taunts. 

Stiles' hands come up to rest on her cheeks, pulling her gaze up to him. Instead of saying anything, he pulls the hood of the sweatshirt up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and leans down to press a kiss to her nose. 

"It's okay, Lyd. I know I'm a stud. You were bound to fall for my charms eventually. It was inevitable."

Groaning, Lydia pulls from his grasp, making her way to the coffee machine. Stiles laughs as he goes back to cooking.

Lydia smiles to herself when she finds two mugs already poured, one with milk, one without, and grabs the lighter one, knowing it's going to be perfect before she even takes a sip.

She's right, and as she sits down at the kitchen table to wait for breakfast, she finds herself staring at her cup, realizing that maybe he's right, maybe it was inevitable, and she smiles a little wider.


End file.
